


Withdrawal (An Inevitable Weaknesses Vignette)

by Viridian5



Series: Weaknesses [7]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: Dark fic, Drama, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-01-17
Updated: 1999-01-17
Packaged: 2017-10-02 08:13:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Viridian5/pseuds/Viridian5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fox tries to break free of Senator Matheson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Withdrawal (An Inevitable Weaknesses Vignette)

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for "Little Green Men" and "Grotesque." On the _X-Files_ timeline, this story would take place just before "Tunguska."
> 
> The way Matheson kept invading Mulder's space in "Little Green Men" disturbs me every time I see the episode. Bugs or no bugs, the senator is almost standing on top of him--way too close and personal, and overbearing in it--and calls him "Fox." This was written before "SR-819" aired but was in no way contradicted by it. Woo-hoo!
> 
> Beta by the wise and wonderful Feklar.
> 
> Takes place in the "Weaknesses" universe after "[Weaknesses IV: Save Yourself](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4336)" and in "To Have, to Own, to Hold" after "[To Have, to Own, to Hold VI: Wednesday](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4345)" but isn't directly in either story arc. Having some knowledge of either is necessary to getting this story.

/Are you sure this is all right, Mulder?/

//Yes. I shouldn't have looked the other way and let it go on as long as it did. You mean too much to me, Fox. There's nothing Matheson could give us that's worth going on as we are. Let's go in there and knock him dead.//

[Let's hope it won't come to that. It would be damned hard to cover up a senator's death.]

******************************************************

This was wrong, wrong for him and wrong for me. I shouldn't be feeling this excitement curling in my stomach, this stirring in my cock, especially not at my age. Especially not for him.

In some ways it shouldn't matter. Fox Mulder was there to be used. We used him, and they used him, and we used him to stop them from using him...

But my compatriots hadn't meant for me to use him this way; it would seem to them like something the other side would do. And the thought of those withered, nicotine-stained fingers touching Fox's skin in any capacity made me want to kill... like the others would kill me if they found out I made our prized stalking horse into my occasional personal playtoy.

They didn't know what Fox Mulder could be like; if they had, they wouldn't be able to blame me.

I knew I deserved some of the blame, but I had to say that Patterson deserved the brunt of it. I would never have started this if not for him...

I'd respected Fox Mulder. Hell, I still did. He took the scraps of information we tossed him and pursued them with the speed of a purebred greyhound and the instinctive skill and tenacity of a bloodhound. His keen mind and wide-ranging knowledge still surprised me.

But he was difficult and impatient. He was a rule-breaking maverick, as most non-standard great minds tended to be, seeing unnecessary constrictions in the very laws he was sworn to protect and in the rules that gave the rest of the world a sense of security. His inability to curb his smart-ass tendencies and his tendency to demand ever more from the people who helped him didn't make him easy to deal with.

I'd found out about Fox Mulder's other side, another self I never would have guessed at, from Patterson. Everyone knew that Patterson told Mulder stories when he was drunk, but if you got him drunk alone with you, sometimes he told entirely different Mulder stories. He still had it bad for his star pupil and seethed with a sense of betrayal at the kid's departure. He spoke with an addict's craving about qualities that made me wonder, made me need to see for myself...

One night, after I had handed over some information, I put the moves on Mulder just as Patterson had. The response I got...

God, Fox was sweet and obedient and attentive to my every whim. So submissive and eager to please. He knew things I wanted before I knew I wanted them. Those eyes that dissected most people bathed me in warm adoration, and those lips that usually mouthed off so sullenly showed far more pleasing talents. He had such incredible skills, yet he came off as so wonderfully innocent despite his slut's abandon. I found the faint New England accent he only had before, during, and right after unpleasant... but I told myself it was a sign of how comfortable he felt with me, that he could use what must have been the accent of his childhood.

That first time, I told myself it would be the last. The first time he asked me in all seriousness, with no archness whatsoever, if he had been a good boy, I once again promised that I would never do this again.

I kept breaking my promises. I kept telling myself that he must have needed to be submissive to someone, and that I was just helping him. He so obviously wanted me, and it felt good to be so wanted. The power I felt having such a brilliant, difficult, attractive young man on his knees or bent over my desk didn't help my resolve either. I ignored the sure knowledge that Mulder had issues with father figures and that even Patterson had expressed some self-recriminations even as he went on rationalizing.

And Fox just got better every time...

At first I spaced out our meetings as much as I could, telling myself I had control. I lied. I knew what I had become, and I even knew that I was hurting him somehow, but I just couldn't stop. It didn't help that Fox started to call for more meetings, maybe not noticeably more to an outsider, but definitely more than we knew was necessary, like an addict accelerating in his addiction.

If he couldn't help himself, how could I?

This was a perversion of the power and trust conferred on me by my constituents, both the public and my secret backers. That I used the office space they'd given me--and got off on using it--for this, only made it all the more inexcusable.

The door opened to let him in, and I saw him shoot a glance back at the aides who had escorted him over and remained outside, unable to hear our business. Such as it was. He had dressed as if he were going fresh to work: his trenchcoat, suit, and tie all perfect and immaculate. He looked tense and pale, which made me nervous, but his eyes blazed with that bright emerald green I associated with the Fox of our trysts, as opposed to the pine-amber that seemed to accompany his prickly, difficult side. His body language contradicted itself, so I tried to be prepared for anything. I turned up the Mozart on the stereo to cover our conversation.

"I think it would best if I went right to the point, sir. I can't do this anymore," he said with that slight accent.

Playing dumb wasn't something I made a habit of, but I needed him to spell it out, even if only in the hope that he didn't mean what I thought he meant. "What, Fox?"

"This. _Us_. I've started to feel lately that I'm... whoring with you for information, and I can't do it anymore. If you still wish to send me information even without that... component of our association, I would really appreciate it, but I can't see you like this anymore."

My mouth went dry. How wise my associates had been. Mulder couldn't know about my backers or the reasons why we sent him data, so he had begun to assume... And I couldn't tell him how wrong he was, or what motives I had. I had hurt him worse than I'd thought, all unknowingly, and I couldn't explain myself to make things better. A situation completely FUBAR, and it was all my fault.

To my shame, I asked, "Could we at least have one more time?"

His eyes briefly flashed, and I knew in that instant that he _wanted_ it, but he just said, "I think we would be better off going cold turkey, sir."

I should have been happy for him that he'd managed to get past his weakness even though I hadn't conquered mine. He was doing the sane, healthy thing. Keeping sex out of it would return our exchange of information to a purer state. It was better this way.

But some dark, selfish piece of me whined like a spoiled child. It had been expecting to feel that luxurious mouth, those clever hands, and that young body again tonight and burned with resentment at being denied. It didn't care about Fox's wellbeing or what would be best; it just wanted.

I then did something I swore to myself I'd never do. Patterson had told me some of the dirty tricks he'd used on Fox, knowing full well the coercive effect they'd have on the young man's psyche. Just having heard these tricks and knowing what they suggested, I never should have propositioned the boy that first time. But I did, and now I couldn't stop.

"You will do as you're told, boy. What you think you want doesn't come into it," I said in my sternest, most authoritative tone.

He stiffened. "Sir?" His voice sounded so small. Afraid.

"Come over here. Now," and I knew my next word damned me but said it anyway, "son."

"Yes, sir." He started to move. Toward me. His eyes had become almost blank. I'd seen that look a few times before and had attributed it to passion, but now I knew that it showed his mind fleeing far away to where it wouldn't have to face this.

He stood right in front of me, breathing on me. Everything in his posture said that he expected to be commanded. Expected, wanted, to be used.

This was horrible. Monstrous. I could still stop it here and do the right thing.

Instead, my cock got even harder as I watched him standing there, looking so vulnerable and so damned young, waiting for my next command. I could tell him to do anything, and he would do it. Immediately.

In desperation, I had used Patterson's worst trick just to get me a final night. But I hadn't anticipated how turned on it would make me.

"Daddy, what do you want me to do?" he asked, softly, and it felt like fire going through my blood, the lust and horror combined. The power I had over him right now... I couldn't stop even if I'd wanted to.

I put my hands on his shoulders and pressed gently down. As he dropped to his knees, his hands slid down my sides, further stoking my need. He unfastened my pants and just _breathed_ for a while against my cock. I leaned back against the desk, my mind clouded with obscene images of a criminally young Fox Mulder doing this for other men, maybe even for his father.

It was a liability to want anything this intensely, this blindly, and not give a damn about the consequences. It was a sin.

I couldn't care.

My pants and underwear had fallen to my ankles, but Fox still hadn't made any further moves. His hot, humid breath on my cock felt incredible, but I wanted more. "Stop dawdling, son," I said. The husky need in my voice stunned me.

He suddenly grabbed my wrist, and something cold closed around it with a loud click. Then he pulled all the way back and stood up, his eyes branding me with his disgust and rage. I tried to move toward him, but the bastard had handcuffed me to one of my desk drawers. I lost all sense in a haze of my own rage, rattling and pulling at the cuff impotently.

Fox couldn't stop shaking his head. "I respected you, senator. I _liked_ you, and you... you... I've gotten better since I was with Patterson. Yeah, I figured that's who you got this from. Dad's dead, and I don't have to be anyone's playtoy anymore. Someone showed me I don't need to give sex to get love. I've gotten to the point where I can remember all that, even when I have someone pushing my buttons. I broke loose once my knees hit the carpet.

"I waited there, hoping you would stop it on your own, but you wouldn't. And then you called me 'son'..." He had his arms wrapped tightly around himself, as if he felt cold. "I should leave you like this!"

I felt ashamed of myself and angry and angry that I felt ashamed and ashamed that I felt angry. I was an old man with his pants around his ankles and his arm handcuffed to his own fucking desk. And my cock was still as hard as steel. I had one arm free, so I could pull my pants up and try to hide my lust from my aides, but I'd still be handcuffed.

"You can't leave me like this," I said as evenly as possible. He'd never let me loose if he knew what I wanted to do to him.

"I can do whatever I want to do now."

The little bastard couldn't do this me! "Fox... Mulder." I watched the expression in his eyes shift as he slid between being my wounded catamite and the federal agent. "I did something stupid tonight, stupid and selfish, and I'm sorry. But if you leave me like this our mutual enemies will take advantage. They might kill me." I let him ponder whether he could live with that before saying, "I won't make another move on you."

He nodded and knelt to unlock my cuff. I struggled to stay completely still, not let any of my emotions spill out before the proper time. As soon as the cuff came loose, I swung at him...

...and found myself being ground face down into my desk top with one arm twisted behind me. I may not have seen active duty in a while, but my reflexes hadn't slowed that much. Yet I hadn't even had a chance of fighting back; he had moved too quickly and with a surprising strength. When I struggled, he bashed my head hard against the desk with a frightening nonchalance.

"This isn't making a move?" His voice sounded cold beyond imagining. "I should have known I couldn't trust a politician. You did a very stupid thing. Again."

"My aides are outside." I didn't know what he'd do; I'd never seen this side of him before.

"But you've turned the music up so loud, and they're used to ignoring strange noises coming from your office when I'm here." His voice was taunting, then frighteningly cold. "The only thing stopping me from killing you is the utter impossibility of me getting away with it."

Then he pushed me against the desk again and said, "Why, senator, you're _still_ hard. Are you getting off on this?"

I wanted to choke him, throttle him. I wanted to bend him over my desk and fuck him until he screamed for mercy. I didn't even care which side of him I got. I wanted to punish them all for this humiliation...

He let me go and pushed back. Shaking with rage, I turned to confront the coldest, darkest eyes I'd ever seen on Fox Mulder. I'd seen eyes like those before: sociopath eyes, killer eyes. They almost scared me until I reminded myself of who I was dealing with.

"You could call your aides in to arrest me--after you pulled up your pants--but I think you need me free for something, like to thwart those mutual enemies you mentioned. If you don't make trouble for me, I won't nail you for any of those little violations and misuses of power I have on you. Don't look so fucking martyred. After all, you started this disaster."

Before he left, he said, "I wouldn't start a campaign against me if I were you. You don't want to see what I'm like when I have nothing left to lose." He went to the door and opened it just wide enough for him to slip through, but not enough for my aides to see inside.

After he was gone I put my clothes back on over my now wilted cock and tried to figure out how the hell things had gone so wrong, what I was going to tell my allies... and how I could get Fox back exactly as I wanted him. I put aside my humiliation and images of sweet revenge to concentrate on putting the pieces of my plans and self-respect back together.

Sooner or later, he would be back.

He needed me.

*****************************************************

/That went better than I expected./

[We probably made an enemy for life. If only we could take him out...]

//But we can't.//

/Like I said, better than I expected./

//I'm so proud of you, Fox. You stood up to him and snapped out of fugue on your own.//

/You have Danny to thank for that. Okay, you don't have to _admit_ that, but acknowledge it to yourself, Mulder. And, William, you were great in there. I know you didn't have to get involved, but you did, and I want to thank you./

William sounded slightly uncomfortable. [He threatened one of my boys. Besides, I wanted to nail the bastard.]

/I still appreciate it./

//I hate swinging from personality to personality like that in public. I hope he didn't understand what it meant.//

/I don't think he cared. Our personality meant nothing to him. I was wrong about _another_ person, dammit./

[Done's done, kid. Once you learn to stop being so optimistic about people, you'll be fine.]

//Don't start, William. I think Fox deserves a little party for his achievement. Do you want to go see Pendrell, Fox?//

/Really? You mean it?/

//I don't lie to you.//

/Well... only if William doesn't mind./

[You have to be kidding me. You don't do self-sacrificing very convincingly, kid.]

/You just saved my bacon, and I want to show you I appreciate you./

William struggled with the idea before saying, reluctantly, [We'll go see the labmouse. But don't think this means you can twist me around your finger.]

/I wouldn't dream of it. Two miracles is the best I can expect from anyone in one night./

 

### End


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